


Witchcraft

by Burning_Nightingale



Category: Black Magician Trilogy - Trudi Canavan, Uglies Series - Scott Westerfeld
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Character Death, Crossover, Cybernetics, F/M, Government Agencies, M/M, Mad Science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 18:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Nightingale/pseuds/Burning_Nightingale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cery, Sonea and the Smoke fight for freedom from the oppressive cities, while Lorlen and Akkarin and the nightmare-like Specials do all they can to bring them to justice...   Uglies/BMT Fusion/Crossover</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is a crossover/fusion-ish fic, featuring a crossover between The Black Magician Trilogy and the Uglies Series. It was written for the Story Rewrite Challenge at the BMT Forum. It was honestly tons of fun to write! I really love the Uglies Series and writing in the same universe (ish) was like a dream. The words flowed very easily :D
> 
> Disclaimer: All recognisable trademarks belong to their respective owners.

 

_The light is so dim here. I feel so sleepy…but so odd. Was someone doing something to me…? My hand feels odd. No, my_ whole body _feels odd. What’s happening to me?_

He kept slipping in and out and wakefulness, never quite managing to totally wake up. His body felt heavy, and so strange…He didn’t feel like himself anymore. Why was that? What had happened to him? Underneath the lethargy that gripped his brain, all his senses were telling him something was wrong, something was very wrong, and he should know what that something was…

But he couldn’t remember. It was far too hard, so he slipped back into sleep.

He found out, finally, later. He didn’t know how long had passed, but he felt more awake now. He could tell he was in bed, and someone was standing next to him. But it was still wrong; the light was far too bright, everything was far too clear; everything had sharp edges, nothing soft…

And then came the words, the words that spread the first icy chill through his body, the words that brought him back to reality and told him what he had been trying to remember for so long, told him what had happened and what he _was_ …

“Face it, Len-wa. You’re Special.”

_0_

They were flying fast, keeping low to the ground. Trees heavy with ice flickered past them, swaying wildly as they raced further into the night. Cery darted a quick look over his shoulder. The sneak-suits should hide them, but you never knew with Specials…

No, there they were, glowing like yellow flames in the infrared goggle’s vision. How did they manage to keep right on their tail? Now they had Special Circumstances boards, they should have been able to slip away…

Cery looked ahead again, and noticed a bright glow in the infrared. _Some Special trick?_ he thought, looking down. And then he gasped. Of course the Specials could keep up with them. Their boards glowed red amongst the cold blues and greens of the night time forest, marking them out clear as day. And the Specials couldn’t be tracking them any other way, despite the fact…Cery darted another look, zooming in the goggles. No, the Specials didn’t have anything on their faces. _They must have infrared implants, overlaying their vision,_ he thought. _Stupid Burril, convincing Harrin that they wouldn’t have done something like that. The Specials can do_ anything.

Cery’s heart began to pound, his breath began to gasp. How could they lose four-no wait, was it five?-Specials with only these boards and no way of disappearing? They were doomed. Specials didn’t put Uglies under the knife; they just killed them. He almost choked as he imagined it, the Special execution; a tight grip on the neck, raised above head height, choking as the Special squeezed, then with one flex of their monofilament muscles…

Cery ducked and weaved with more force, darting and swooping. They _had_ to lose the Specials, else risk leading them straight to the Smoke. _Sonea…_ His face set. They wouldn’t be rooting out the Smoke, killing him, or getting their hands on Sonea tonight. No chance in hell.

He banked hard, twitching his specialised interface ring to ping the others. **-Head towards the river. Spread out.-**

Seconds later, he had a ping back. It was Harrin **. -What’s the plan?-**

Cery grinned. **–Just wait and see.-**

Within a minute they were close. The sound of the river, rushing full to bursting from late spring rains, crashed louder than the roar of the lifting fans beneath them, almost too loud to think over. Cery weaved around the last branch, flitting a look at the Specials behind him, and zoomed straight over the crashing white capped water, skimming lower towards it. As he cut the thrashing surface, a wall of water over a metre high flew into the air, disturbed by the lifting fans. The others gathered around him, hiding them from view for a few precious seconds. Cery smiled grimly, and then angled down, motioning wildly for them to follow.

The board hit the water with a slap and was almost kicked from under Cery’s feet. He sunk like a stone, grateful for the large gasp of air he’d taken before falling. He glimpsed dark shapes in the water around him, the others swimming wildly, reaching for their masks. He scrabbled to his belt and pulled out the swim mask, fixing it to his face and breathing deeply. _The Specials have no idea we have this kind of tech,_ he thought smugly to himself. _They’ll be pretty confused._ The flow of the water carried him; he grabbed out for his board, and hoped the others had the sense to just be washed away by the current. By the time the Specials had any time to think about swimming, they’d be miles away.

_0_

The surface of the water glittered in the icy moonlight, rushing and breath-takingly beautiful. Their two boards hovered low over the water, searching for the lost Smokies. The other three were hidden in the trees, searching too.

“There’s nothing here, Boss,” Osen’s soft voice filtered through Lorlen’s skintenna.

“Nothing this side,” Yikmo sighed, turning his board back towards the center of the river.

“They’re not here either,” came Dannyl’s voice, carried through the network on barely a whisper.

“We’ve lost them, huh, Len-wa?” Akkarin asked, his board floating closer to Lorlen’s.

Lorlen nodded, a sharp jab of his head. “Dr. Vinara won’t be happy about this.”

“You’re going to tell her?”

“The Cutters don’t have anything to do with her, Boss,” Osen said stubbornly, appearing from the trees fifty metres away on the river’s east side. “She doesn’t have to know anything.”

“She knows they were here, idiot,” Dannyl snapped.

“Right,” Lorlen sighed. “That’s not a conversation I’m looking forward to.”

Akkarin had floated to within inches of him, their boards almost touching. He smiled softly, reaching out to brush Lorlen’s arm with his fingers. “Want me to come too?” he asked, switching to a private skintenna channel.

Lorlen frowned. “You shouldn’t.”

Akkarin laughed quietly. “Dr. Vinara won’t eat me.”

Lorlen smiled at him. “Thanks, Rin-la,” he whispered.

Suddenly the others were beside them. “Give up and go home, boss?” Yikmo asked.

Lorlen heaved a sigh, then nodded. “Yeah, sure. Back to base.”

With a soft growl from the lifting fans, the Specials turned their boards and swooped off into the western sky. Lorlen’s stomach turned and twisted. He wasn’t looking forward to talking to Dr. Vinara, but he knew he would have to go tonight. She knew the Smokies had been at the Ugly bash; if he didn’t turn up to report, he’d have an angry ping demanding his presence at Special Headquarters within hours.

_Don’t think like that, Lorlen,_ he thought to himself. _You’re Special. Whatever you do, it’s_ right _. No one else touches you._ He grimaced and dug his diamond hard fingernails into the skin of his right arm, avoiding the pulsating flash tattoos. He winced as pain washed over him, then narrowed his eyes as he felt the iciness hit. Being icy was unique to being a Special; even though the pain hurt, _inside_ the pain there was a sublime high that sharpened every sense and thought until sometimes it almost hurt to look at the world. And that was why the Cutters were Cutters; because of the small knives they kept on their person at all times, just to stimulate that high. And that was why Specials were so much better, so much higher compared to the pathetic worms that crawled the earth and called themselves human beings.

_0_

After they got back to Cutter camp and dropped off the others, Lorlen and Akkarin rose on their hoverboards again and made for Special HQ. The boards whirring underneath them were special; normal boards were only fitted with magnetic lifters. This meant they could only fly within cities, where the ground was crosshatched by an underground grid of metal girders that pushed against the magnetic lifters and kept the boards (and hovercars) aloft. Having lifting fans solved this problem. Cities themselves were what Specials existed for; or, rather, keeping those cities in line.

In each city, certain classes had been established. Those who were rich and belonged to the Houses before what was dubbed as ‘Prettytime’ had been made into Pretties; people who underwent an operation to be amazingly beautiful. Pretties lived in Pretty Town, and never had to do anything but party. Uglies, on the other hand, were always working. They were the scum of society, the lower classes. Left normal and ‘ugly’, they worked out their whole lives to keep Pretty Town running, living in hovels and shanty towns on the outskirts of the city, hidden from view by a large belt of trees.

Uglies hated Pretties, and Pretties thought Uglies were scum. But what the Pretties didn’t know was that as well as being made beautiful, each operation also made them stupid; tiny lesions were put into each of their brains, keeping them dull and controllable as cattle. To control the Uglies, however, something else was needed.

And that was where Specials came in.

Specials maintained order; Specials hunted criminals; Specials made sure everything ran just as the higher powers wanted it. All Uglies lived in fear of Specials. When something so fearful existed, the authorities didn’t need to spend extra money making the Uglies stupid; they just sent in the Specials.

You could only have the Pretty operation at sixteen. Before that you were a ‘Littlie’, you were taught in school, and lived with your parents until you left for dorms at eleven and Pretty Town at sixteen. The dorms nestled behind the suburbs at the edge of the city, enclosed by the Greenbelt that separated Uglies from Pretties. The dorms had pretty lax security, on purpose, so that clever Littlies could sneak out and do other tricks. And if they were tricksy enough, they were hired to be Specials.

And they came here, to Special HQ. Lorlen sighed as they glided over the high encircling fence. HQ was set on a hill outside the Greenbelt, overlooking all of Uglyville. Keeping watch.

They landed on the flight bay in the middle of the roof and jumped off the boards, which sunk to the ground to wait for them. A hatch door opened in the roof and another Special climbed out, his expression grim. “Dr. Vinara is waiting for you. She said for me to-”

“Yeah yeah, I don’t need her lectures,” Lorlen grunted, pushing him aside. “Just tell me where the hell she is.”

“But I really should-”

“Listen,” Lorlen growled, turning back, “I _really should_ be celebrating catching some Uglies right about now. But I’m not, so I’m _here_. So tell me where she is.”

“Her office,” the other Special mumbled, looking at the ground.

Lorlen turned on his heel and stalked down the corridor to the lift, Akkarin following silently. The doors sighed open and Lorlen jabbed the button for her floor, glaring moodily at the ground. Akkarin smiled at him. “Lighten up, Len-wa,” he said quietly, “we’re her special Specials. She’s not going to decommission us any time soon.”

“You so sure?” Lorlen muttered. “I think we screwed up pretty bad this time.”

Akkarin touched his shoulder. “The Smokies are getting more tricksy every time,” he said soothingly, “She can’t expect you to keep winning when they’re getting better.”

Lorlen’s brow crinkled. “I don’t know what she expects,” he whispered, “that’s the problem.”

Akkarin’s eyes widened sympathetically, but before he could say anything the lift stopped on their floor. “Here we go,” he whispered, letting his words carry through the Skintenna and catching Lorlen’s hand, “let’s do this.”

Lorlen grinned, grateful for the comforting warmth of Akkarin’s hand in his, and they walked out of the elevator to a forbidding door a little way down the corridor. A plaque with her name engraved in neat square writing hung on it. Lorlen knocked. A grating voice from inside called, “Come in.”

They entered the room quietly and moved towards the desk. The white room was spartan in furnishing; merely a desk and a chair, nothing else. There was nowhere for visitors to sit, so they remained standing. Dr. Vinara stood with her back to them, facing the wide windows, obviously deep in thought, and neither of them wanted to break the silence. Eventually, she spoke.

“So. The Smokies escaped.”

Lorlen nodded sharply. “They did.”

“Again.”

“Yes, again.”

She turned slightly and placed one finger on her lips. “Why?”

“When we got to the river they kicked up a storm of water, and when it dissipated they’d disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” her voice was mocking as she turned to face them. “I thought you could do better than that. You’re my special Specials, aren’t you? Though I see there’s more than one of you.” She stared at Akkarin.

Lorlen nodded. “You might like to hear it from two perspectives. You like being thorough.”

Her smile was mocking, but amused. “I do. Now, let me see,” she sat in her chair and rifled through some papers, “ah, here. I do believe that these,” she held some papers up, “are your contracts and certificates of entry into Special hire. And I also believe that I, at any time, can throw these papers into the fire and watch your Special membership burn away just like that.” She put her papers down and stood again, staring straight into his eyes. He couldn’t help a tiny shudder at the anger there.

“And you know what happens then,” she whispered darkly, “I turn you back into a helpless, stupid, beautiful Pretty, and you forget everything you ever did and all that ever happened while you were here. Become one of the cattle again. Is that what you want?” He shook his head mutely, feeling Akkarin copy him even though the question was barely addressed to him. Vinara smiled triumphantly. “Good. Then I suggest you go catch me some Smokies.”

_0_

When they washed up on the shore of the river twenty miles away from where they’d lost the Specials, most of the group were so glad to be alive that they forgave Cery their little dip in the ice cold water.

Unfortunately, not all were so thankful.

“You absolute arse!” Burril yelled, dragging himself up through the mud to where Cery stood, “You couldn’t have just lost them normally, could you?! Ya had to get us all wet!”

Cery clenched his fists, focusing on not hitting the idiot. “Burril, it was you who convinced Harrin they wouldn’t have infrared!” he growled, “It was your fault we didn’t have better security! And unless you hadn’t noticed, we’re alive thanks to _me_ , not you.”

“Stuck up ponce,” Burril spat, “Think you’re better than us do you? Just cos you’re best friends with the Boss? Huh?”

Cery hissed angrily. He hated the way Burril pushed his friendship with Harrin in his face like that all the time. So Harrin trusted him, so what? You had to have people you could trust. “Shut up, Burril,” he snapped, “We’re alive, and that’s what counts, so stop moaning.” He felt relief as some of the others agreed, and Burril stomped off, glaring at him over his shoulder.

Cery sighed and looked up at the sky. Hopefully they’d be home by nightfall.

_0_

Deep in the quiet of the wood, a little squirrel scurried along a branch, carrying a nut. He looked around and made a quiet little chitter to himself, and settled down to eat the nut. _He looks so peaceful,_ Sonea thought as she watched him, _I love it here._

She’d only been with the Smoke for a few months, but already she never wanted to leave. Life was hard, but this place was paradise. Being out in nature, hearing the birds call, working hard all day and feeling so satisfied when you tucked into that evening meal…It was heaven and bliss and a million other words wrapped up into one. Her old life, almost her other life in her eyes, seemed a hundred miles away from where she was now.

Sighing contently she stood up, brushing the dirt from the back of her rough trousers. It was almost dusk, and the others would be expecting her back soon. She wound her way through the forest, pushing branches aside and occasionally stepping over streams and fallen logs, following her path back through the forest to the Smokie camp. She stopped and smiled as she reached the border. Nestled into a small valley, the tiny gathering of wooden huts looked quaint and peaceful, lit prettily by the late evening light. Cook fires were springing up everywhere, and the sound of chatter and laughter came from the open doors of huts and the people that wandered between them. _It may be simple,_ she thought as she set off towards the hut where she lived, _but it’s so much better than the city._

Suddenly there was a thumping, swooshing noise. People’s voices raised in concern as it got louder, and Sonea turned in its direction, her heart beginning to thump in her chest. But she laughed and smiled when a loose group of hoverboards came speeding over the edge of the trees on the other side of the clearing, their lifting fans slowing as they floated towards the ground. Sonea began running, and as soon as she’d discarded her basket of herbs and berries at home she ran to where they’d landed and caught up a familiar blonde head in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re back!” she cried in his ear.

“Ow, Sonea, don’t yell,” Cery laughed as she pulled away. He grinned at her, his usual cheeky self. “How’re you? You miss me?”

“Not at all,” Sonea lied, grinning, “But how did things go? Did you…” She trailed off as she noticed the arm she had her hand on was slightly wet. “Cery, your arm is wet. What happened?”

Cery’s grin became a little forced. “Little mix up with the river, nothing to worry about.”

Sonea put a hand to her mouth. “You fell in the river?” she snorted, trying to hold back giggles.

Cery scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Not exactly,” he mumbled, “but I’ll tell you afterwards. I’m starving!”

“So am I, actually,” Sonea grinned, and they raced back to the house they shared with Sonea’s aunt and uncle.

Aunt Jonna looked up disapprovingly when they arrived. “Honestly Sonea, I told you not to leave things at the door,” she scolded, drying her hands with a tea cloth. “You never know what could happen to them.”

“Sorry Aunt Jonna,” Sonea said, sitting down at the table, “I’ll remember not to next time. What’s for dinner?”

“Roast bird tonight, in celebration of little Ceryni coming home,” she smiled, ruffling Cery’s hair.

He shrugged. “Well, I guess you can always celebrate being alive.”

“What do you mean?” Sonea asked as Jonna set the bird down on the table, and Uncle Ranel came in and pulled up his usual chair. “Did something go wrong?”

Cery nodded grimly. “Oh hell yes,” he said, accepting the plate Jonna handed him, “Thank you.” They all settled into their seats and began to eat as Cery gathered his thoughts. “Well, everything was going fine. The Uglies were partying, and we were in amongst them, talking to those that wanted to join the Smoke. Then, suddenly, the mood shifted. It was really hard to sense, so some of the others didn’t notice and went right ahead, talking and stuff, but I could tell something was wrong. I pinged them all to get outta there, but by then it was too late,” he paused heavily, “We’d already been found.”

Jonna gasped. “No,” she whispered.

“Unfortunately yes,” Cery said, looking down at his plate, “we weren’t the only gatecrashers at the party.”

Sonea put down her cutlery. “You’re saying Specials were there?!” she gasped, reaching for his hand.

He smiled softly as he took it. “I’m here, Sonea, not dead. No Special got to me. Anyway, yes, they were there, dressed as Uglies. Some kind of mask to disguise their faces. Well, when I popped the ping and we all started moving, that did it. They burst outta their disguises and were after us like blood hounds.” Cery grinned then. “It was looking bad. We thought our sneak suits would disguise us, but we didn’t check the boards and they were glowing like no tomorrow. So I get an idea; we all go out over the river and the lifting fans kick up a wall of water, like three metres high. That gives us a split second to dive under the water and let ourselves get washed away. Lucky we had swim masks huh?”

Sonea leaned over and hugged him. “Honestly, I keep telling you, you should be more careful! Who knows what’ll happen to you!”

Cery grinned and hugged her tight. “Sorry, Sonea. I’ll be more careful in future. Promise. For you.”

_0_

“You think the kid’ll jump?”

Lorlen raised a brow. “We’re letting her take her chances,” he answered evenly.

Osen grumbled. “Jeez, all we ever seem to do is hid in the trees,” he muttered.

“You really need to learn how to be patient,” Yikmo muttered, his voice carried from the next tree over.

They’d all hidden in a group of trees that surrounded a football pitch near a dorm where they had found one of the ‘tricksy’ Littlies who could become a Special. However, when playing on this football pitch, she had met a small group of Uglies and become friends; Uglies who were looking for the Smoke. Lorlen had decided not to turn both groups in, but to let the kid lead them right to their target. He still hadn’t thought this plan through completely; it was easy to track her now, but the Smokies might have ways of detecting trackers, and they were much more experienced in the ways of the Wild. However, from what they’d heard listening in, it sounded like for the most part, the Uglies would be journeying alone. And they’d offered to take the Littlie with them.

The Littlie’s name was Donia, and she was hanging about under the trees now, waiting to meet her Ugly friends. Lorlen shifted his weight on the tree branch, feeling the sensitive camouflage scales of his sneak suit shift to accommodate the movement. They could change into anything, hide him anywhere, and they were programmed to sense the surface around them and react to it. A pretty sweet deal, all in all. There was a quiet rustle in the bushes, and a small group of about four Uglies made their way cautiously over to Donia. The leading Ugly, a boy, smiled. “So, you’re still in then?”

Donia nodded nervously. “Yeah, I’m still in. Do you have more details?”

The boy grinned. “Yep. The Smoke contacted me.” He puffed out his chest, looking very proud, and Donia regarded him with an identical awed expression to the one that the other Uglies wore. Lorlen fought the urge to snort.

“What did they say?” one of the Ugly girls asked.

“They said we’re to go out to the old abandoned city and wait for a contact,” the boy said, leaning close conspiratorially. “Someone’ll come and pick us up, and lead us to the Smoke.”

_Bingo,_ Lorlen thought as the Uglies crowded round, whispering excitedly. _Now all we need is to find out the date…_

“When do we go?” Donia asked excitedly.

“In three days. Make sure you’re ready,” the boy said seriously.

“Don’t worry, I will be,” Donia smiled. “I have to go, I’ll see you then!” She waved and ran back across the playing field, whilst the Uglies snuck back into the bushes.

Osen sat back on his heels and stretched. “Well, I guess that wasn’t completely worthless, then.”

“If I say it’s not worthless, it’s not worthless, you got it?” Lorlen snapped, glaring at him from the corner of his eye.

Osen held up his hands placating. “I’m joking, Boss,” he grinned. “You’re doing well, honest. That meeting with Dr. V really set you on edge. Come on man,” he gave Lorlen a friendly punch on the arm, “you’re the best, remember? The Smokies haven’t got a chance!” Lorlen smiled slightly, and Osen reached out and hugged him. “You idiot,” he chuckled, “Dr. V can threaten you all she likes, but she knows she’d be screwed without you. Now come on; we’ve got work to do, right?”

Lorlen nodded as he pulled away and clicked his fingers to summon his hoverboard. “Yeah, right.”

_0_

 


	2. Middle

_0_

Cery was pacing, and Harrin was watching him uneasily. “Cery, you’re wearing a path into the floor,” he sighed as Cery passed him again, “What the hell’re you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything, and that’s the problem,” Cery sighed, coming to a stop. He looked at Harrin appealingly. “Don’t you think we should be doing…I dunno, more? I mean, we’re taking Uglies away from the city, sure, but we’re not doing anything to help the Uglies who’re too scared to leave. The whole situation isn’t getting much better.”

Harrin sighed. “Cery, I know you feel bad about it,” he said, coming over and resting his hands on his best friend’s shoulders. “But the truth is, we just can’t do anything. I’ve heard my dad talk about it loads of times. He runs the Smoke, and he focuses on that to keep his mind off the trapped Uglies. Because he can’t do anything.”

Cery sighed angrily. “It’s still wrong though,” he said quietly.

Harrin gave him an encouraging smile. “Yeah, but we’re doing great here! More and more Uglies are thinking about leaving the city, and we’re getting much more self-sufficient!”

Cery gave him a wry smile. “You’re so enthusiastic it’s sickening, you know that?” he said quietly. Harrin just laughed and pulled him out the door. Outside the sun was shining weakly, having just broken through a raincloud that had been pouring water on them for most of the day. As they crossed the camp Cery noticed a familiar face going the other way. “Hey, Sonea!”

She turned and smiled. “Hey, guys. What’re you doing?”

“Nothing much,” Harrin replied, “What about you? You look like a woman on a mission.”

“Hardly,” Sonea snorted, “I’m just off to see Rothen. You can come too, if you want?”

“Sure,” Cery said, Harrin nodding, “I haven’t seen the old guy in quite a while.”

“You shouldn’t call him that,” Sonea chided as they walked towards the slope on the other side of the valley.

“What?” Cery asked exasperatedly, “He is old!”

“So’s Ranel, but you don’t call him ‘old man’!”

“Rothen _is_ older,” Harrin pointed out.

“Harrin that’s not the point.”

“Well what is the point?” Cery asked, confused.

Sonea sighed. “Honestly, _boys_ ,” she huffed, walking ahead of them as they tried to smother giggles at her reaction. In a few more minutes they reached a secluded hut set behind a few trees, with a nice view over the forest. Sonea walked up and knocked on the door. “Rothen? Hello?”

The door opened promptly. “Hello Sonea,” Rothen said, beaming. “And Harrin and Cery I see,” he added as the two boys appeared, “Do come in.”

They walked into Rothen’s cosy little home and sat down around the table, accepting his offer of drinks. “How are you, Rothen?” Sonea asked as she stirred her tea, “Still inventing as hard as ever?”

“Ah,” Rothen’s face became serious, and he sat down at the table heavily, “now that’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Cery and Harrin leaned in. Despite their joking, they both respected Rothen deeply. He was the only person ever to have come to the Smoke after becoming a Pretty. He had once been a doctor in a Pretty hospital, performing the operation, when he’d grown disillusioned with the city and, very daringly, escaped. His wife had come with him, but she’d died from sickness a few years ago, and he’d lived here in this secluded hut ever since, tinkering with chemicals and experimenting with whatever he could find. He had quite a good set up going on in the other room, and it was there that he glanced at now as he began to speak.

“You remember I was telling you about the lesions that are put into Pretties brains?” he asked.

They all nodded. “They make the Pretties stupid,” Harrin said.

“Indeed. However, I think I may just have found the cure.” He rose from his seat and disappeared into the other room, returning with a small vial which contained a pile of white tablets. “This,” he said, placing it on the table, “should cure a Pretty of the lesions.”

They all stared at it. “Have you tested it?” Sonea asked.

“On bacteria and various other simulations, yes,” Rothen murmured, “but on an actual Pretty, no.”

“So you don’t know for sure,” Cery concluded.

“No, but I’m fairly certain.”

“Well,” Harrin smiled, rubbing his hands together, “you’re going to need a test subject, then!”

“Well where’re we going to get one of those?” Sonea asked. “Do you see any Pretties round here?”

“And there’s another problem,” Cery said darkly. “We can cure Pretties, fine. But what about the Specials? A cure for being Special would be more useful,” he looked at Rothen, “no offence.”

Rothen smiled. “None taken. I understand the sentiment. The problem is, I know how the lesions work; I used to add them myself. However, a Special’s brain chemistry…” he shook his head, “Well, that’s another matter altogether. I’m not sure what on earth they’ve done to those poor creatures,” he said quietly.

Harrin frowned. “Could you guess?”

Rothen sighed. “I could take many guesses as to the nature of the changes made. For example, I could theorise that their incredible strength comes from their monofilament muscles, which you know; however, it could also be attributed to a carbon fibre skeleton.”

“Their whole skeleton is built out of carbon fibre?!” Harrin yelled, “I mean, the bone is just _gone_?”

“Harrin, I was theorising. I don’t know for sure. Evidence suggests that that could be possible. Also, when I was working, I heard a lot of rumours about the nature of the Special modifications,” Rothen paused, frowning, then continued, “Some people said that their brain chemistry had been altered to give them what could be called…a superiority complex. In simple terms, that means they have been programmed to think they are better than everyone else, that they are a higher form of being than Pretties or Uglies. This would explain why they regard anyone other than another Special as incredibly stupid.”

“So the Specials have been altered to think that they’re…what, gods?” Harrin spat. “That’s disgusting.”

“I might be inclined to agree with you there, Harrin,” Rothen said sombrely. “We often see the Specials as demons that stalk our existence; but sometimes the thought troubles me that the Specials may also be victims, forced into a sort of slavery by those who have been tampering with their minds…”

Cery whistled. “Then this conspiracy goes deeper than we ever thought,” he said quietly.

“Careful,” Rothen warned, “it _could_ go deeper than we thought. We don’t actually have any proof yet. The Specials could just be specially picked to assemble a group of people whose natures are similarly ruthless.”

“But you doubt it,” Cery said quietly.

Rothen looked away out of the window. “It seems…fairly unlikely.”

“So,” Harrin laid a hand down on the table, “Specials could be built out of carbon fibre and programmed to believe they’re gods. Any other good news while we’re on the subject?”

Rothen shrugged. “Obviously they’ve been fitted with more advanced versions of the impulse and reaction systems fitted in Pretties, which makes them able to move so quickly and react so fast. And we know they have monofilament muscles…” He scratched his chin, “But I can’t think of anything else.”

“Eye implants,” Cery said.

“What?” Harrin asked, turning to him.

“They could see our boards in infrared without goggles,” Cery expanded, “They must have something implanted into their eyes.”

Rothen nodded. “They were developing such things when I was in the city. Various different things you could overlay your vision with, a step up from normal eyescreens. And if they’ve developed that, they might also have Skintenna.”

“Skintenna?” Sonea asked warily.

“A network of tiny, minuscule wires throughout the body which pick up the sounds of that body and project them,” Rothen said, “They use the whole body as a projecting surface, and project sounds to other Skintenna. People with Skintenna were supposed to be able to communicate with each other even when they spoke so quietly they could barely hear themselves. It carries everything you say to the other people linked to your network, no matter how quietly you say it. I think it would give you…a real closeness to that other person, or people. Theoretically you’d always be able to hear their breathing.”

Sonea shivered. Cery grimaced. “Well, at least our theory of them being telepathic is proved wrong,” he said. “Seriously, they always know what the other is doing; we thought they had some special way of communicating, like tiny communicating devices…but never to that degree…”

Rothen laughed quietly. “That’s the thing about Specials,” he murmured, “they always take it one step further than you thought was possible. Sometimes I wonder if they take it one step further than it should be taken.”

Harrin shook his head. “Look, that doesn’t matter.” He looked at them all one by one, his face very similar to his father’s. “What we need is to know if those pills work. So we need a Pretty to test them on.”

Rothen frowned. “Harrin, this is experimental medicine. We can’t just give it to someone without telling them what it does or what could happen.”

“What could happen?” Harrin asked slowly.

“These,” Rothen held them up, “repair the damage to a brain, but technically they’re also tampering with the structure of the brain. If they were to go wrong, you could end up with severe brain damage, to many different extents. You could lose your memories, your motor functions…you could forget your own name.”

They were all silent, quietened. Sonea breathed out heavily. “So we need to find a Pretty who’ll agree to take the medicine, even when they know the risks involved?”

Rothen looked down at the vial. “Yes, that’s what we need.” He frowned, obviously thinking about something.

Sonea leaned forward, frowning also. “Rothen, I know what you’re thinking. But you can’t-”

“It’s better than leaving him a Pretty, isn’t it?” Rothen said with a quiet tone of desperation. “He’d agree, I know he would.”

Cery winced. He knew who they were talking about. “He’d agree because you’re his father, Rothen,” he said gently, “not because he understood the risks. And you just said yourself…”

“So it’s better to run the risk of some innocent Pretty whom we have no connection with becoming brain damaged than to risk asking someone we know just because we know him?” Rothen asked bitterly. “No. You should ask him. It’d be a quick, easy solution. I’m very sure of this treatment. As long as he takes two pills, no more and no less, he’ll be fine. Give them to him,” he placed them in front of Harrin, “If he says no then fine. But at least try.”

Harrin nodded soberly and picked up the vial. “When we next go in,” he promised.

Cery shivered as they said goodbye and left. He didn’t like the idea of giving anyone something as dangerous as what Harrin now carried; much less someone that Rothen and Sonea both cared about. Rothen’s son, Dorrien. Rothen and his wife had been forced to leave him behind when they left. Sonea and Dorrien had been in the same dorm, good friends. When the time came to turn Pretty, Dorrien had said goodbye and disappeared into Pretty Town; Sonea hadn’t seen him since. How they were even going to find him was hard enough. Getting to talk to him…Cery sighed. _Ah well, looks like we have something to plan again._

_0_

Lorlen was packing. In fact, he’d just finished, and he was swinging the bag onto his shoulder when Akkarin poked his head round the door. “Ready to go?”

Lorlen nodded. “Sure, I’ve packed everything. Are the others still being moody about staying behind?”

Akkarin laughed and walked into the room, shutting the door. “You know they feel lost without you, _Boss_.” He winked.

Lorlen punched his arm. “Don’t call me that, you idiot.”

Akkarin shifted his bag on his shoulder. “Come on, then. We can’t keep our lovely Smokies waiting.”

“Indeed not,” Lorlen laughed as they walked out, “Where’re we picking up Donia’s trail?”

“At the dorm, I thought.”

“Good.”

_0_

The lights of Pretty Town swirled in a thousand different colours, lighting up the sky that from time to time exploded with fireworks. Every so often the quiet bangs would change to shrieking whistles, and the Pretties below would howl and squeal with delight. The noises of Pretties laughing and shouting, most of them drunk, filtered through the trees as Cery and Harrin snuck through the deserted park.

They’d been planning to come to the city anyway to pick up some new recruits, and when Burril and a team had come back the day before, panting and elated by the fact that they’d outwitted some Specials again, they’d brought with them news that they’d tracked down Dorrien. Cery didn’t know how; Burril wouldn’t tell him, not even when he’d jibed him about only escaping from normal level, slow Specials, not the Cutters. Burril hadn’t budged, however. Cery would have been suspicious, but apparently Burril had confided in Harrin. _What a git,_ Cery though, ducking low as some Pretties ran screaming down the path about three metres away from them, _Has to show off all the time, thinks he’s so high and mighty…_ Cery had been very happy to be able to stick in his face the fact that he was the one coming on the mission, though.

“Cery,” Harrin hissed, “focus.”

Cery jumped and noticed they were close to their destination. “Sorry, Harrin,” he murmured, coming close through the trees. “That the place?”

Harrin nodded. “Yeah, they’re having a mask party tonight,” he grinned, holding up two face masks, “Perfect opportunity.”

Cery smirked and pulled his mask over his face. “Let’s do this.”

Inside the party was in full swing, with Pretties on all sides dancing, drinking, shouting, screaming, embracing in dark corners…Cery and Harrin moved stealthily through them, scanning for their target. They crossed several rooms and eventually three floors in their search. Sighing, Cery pulled Harrin aside. “Are you sure he’s here?”

Harrin nodded. “I’m sure. We’ve just got to keep looking. This mansion has like ten floors, you know.”

Cery groaned. “Aw man, my back’s starting to ache!”

Harrin shoved his shoulder playfully. “Idiot, I thought you were tough!”

“I am, you-”

Harrin gasped and shushed him. “There, that’s him,” he pointed down the hall. Cery turned to see a Pretty with bright ginger hair coming towards them. Thankfully, he was alone. Harrin stepped out into his path. “Hey, Dorrien.”

Dorrien’s eyes widened. “How do you know my name?” he asked, looking at them each in turn.

“Don’t worry about that,” Cery said, coming forwards, “Are you drunk?”

Dorrien shook his head. “No, I don’t like the martinis they have downstairs. I came up here to get some champagne; apparently the stuff up here is bubbly and-”

“Listen, that’s good okay? Now, we’ve got something important to ask you,” Cery motioned to Harrin.

Out of his jacket pocket, Harrin pulled the vial. “See this, Dorrien?” Dorrien nodded obediently. “This is a special cure. Do you ever think you don’t get things, or you find yourself thinking you’re a bit stupid?” Dorrien looked thoughtful, and Cery prayed this was working. They’d gone over scripts about a hundred times, trying to find a way to explain to a Pretty why they would need medicine. This was their best way of explaining it.

“I think I know what you mean,” Dorrien said, though he didn’t look sure.

Harrin smiled encouragingly. “Well, this cure can help,” he said, holding it under Dorrien’s nose.

Dorrien looked at it, puzzled. “Where did you get it? How come the doctors don’t give it to me?”

Cery sucked in a breath. “We got it from your dad, Dorrien,” he said quietly.

Dorrien stared at him, then smiled hopefully. “Dad?” he questioned, looking at them with shining eyes, “You know where Dad is?”

“Yeah, we do,” Cery nodded, “And he asked us to give you this.” _Technically speaking, we were supposed to ask your permission. But how do you tell a Pretty what’s really wrong with them? It’s pointless._ “He wanted you to take these.”

Dorrien grinned and nodded, holding out his hand. “Okay.”

Harrin opened the vial and dropped them onto Dorrien’s palm. “Swallow them both, okay?”

Dorrien nodded eagerly and knocked both pills back. Cery held out a glass. “Sorry, found this on the floor. Should be okay though, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dorrien grinned before downing the champagne, “Thanks. Now, where’s Dad?”

“He’s coming to see you, soon,” Harrin promised, “Real soon. But we have to go now. You’ll start to see the effects of the pill soon, but don’t tell anyone what’s happened, and don’t act differently.”

Dorrien frowned at them, confused. “But you said you knew Dad,” he whispered plaintively. “Where is he?”

“He’s coming, I promise!” Cery called as they backtracked down the hallway, leaving Dorrien standing, looking ever more confused. “Now go back to your mansion and rest! You’ll need it.”

_0_

Donia had set out from her dorm at the right time and met the Uglies exactly as planned. Now they were in the woods, already past Uglyville, and the group of teenagers walking on the forest floor below were growing excited. “Just think!” one of them cried, “We’re free!”

 _Don’t bet on it,_ Lorlen thought, suppressing a snort. _Stupid Uglies. They haven’t even thought to see if anyone’s tracking them. They’re useless._

The forest at night was gorgeous; all beautiful colours and soft edges, sparkling starlight and luminous mosses…Lorlen smiled, taking a moment to appreciate the beauty as only a Special could. No Ugly or Pretty could ever see the world like this. Only Specials were able to truly perceive the sheer wonder of the Wild; which is why they kept the cattle in their cities, to prevent them from ever harming the wonderful Earth like they had centuries ago. A rather poetic goal, Lorlen thought.

After tramping through the forest for what seemed like a lifetime, the Uglies reached the river and turned north. They kept going for a long while, Lorlen and Akkarin following them discretely in the trees, until the giant crippled structures of the Ancient’s City came into view. The excited Uglies quietened considerably as they wandered under the high peaks of the rusted towers, and whispered to each other in awe. The Ancient’s City was from at least three centuries ago. It had been destroyed in the apocalypse that had prompted the Prettytime, and been left to rot and decay and rust in silence. This, then, was the place the Smokies chose to meet their new recruits. A distinct landmark, it was finally a clever piece of thinking. Lorlen bit his lip to stop himself laughing. _Yes,_ finally _a bit of intelligence._

The Uglies stopped in the shadow of a tall building and waited, looking nervously around. From their viewpoint about fifty metres away, Lorlen and Akkarin waited. “How long do you think we’ll have to wait?” Akkarin breathed.

Lorlen shrugged. “Who knows? Hopefully they’ll turn up soon. It would be idiotic to leave scared teenagers in the dark for too long. But then, they are Uglies, so idiocy isn’t exactly hard for them.”

Akkarin’s smirk was visible even in the darkness. “Let’s hope these Smokies haven’t gotten too tricksy,” he murmured. “Then again, it’s been a while since we’ve had a good fight.”

Lorlen smiled and was about to reply, but was cut off by the sound of lifting fans. The Uglies all turned towards the south, and two dark shapes came swooping in, landing close by. When they walked to the small group, Lorlen twitched his fingers and activated a telescopic zoom within his eyes. “Yep,” he said, twitching his fingers as he adjusted the zoom, “They’re definitely Smokies. We’ve seen those ones before.”

He felt the air move almost imperceptibly as Akkarin too twitched his fingers to zoom. “Yeah, the river disappearing act boy,” he whispered. “A tricksy one for sure, huh?”

“They don’t seem fazed,” Lorlen breathed back, “Or even paranoid. They’re not actually checking for anyone.” He saw them run a stick-like object over each Ugly, and nodded, “They’ve checked for bugs. At least we didn’t plant one of those.”

Akkarin grinned. “If we had, it wouldn’t have been picked up by that,” he pointed out.

Lorlen smiled. “Still.” Dark flat shapes rose off the ground, and he tugged Akkarin’s sleeve. “They’re making a move. Hoverboards.”

“Not yet,” Akkarin breathed, “Otherwise they’ll hear the fans.”

“Akkarin, exactly how much metal is there here?” Lorlen asked exasperatedly, “The boards don’t need their fans.”

“Whoops,” Akkarin muttered, clicking his fingers, “Forgot that.”

The two boards glided silently to meet them, just as the Uglies began to ascend. “We’ll keep close to the trees, below them,” Lorlen muttered as he jumped aboard, “They won’t see us, especially with the sneak suits.”

Akkarin grinned as they rose and glided off, following the Uglies. “Now I know why they made you the Boss,” he chuckled.

_0_

Two days later, Akkarin and Lorlen had trailed the group of Uglies and Smokies across a sea of endless forest, hidden when they’d landed, and generally kept to the shadows. They’d eavesdropped on several conversations, and as well as learning a little intelligence about the Smoke, they’d learned that the Uglies should reach it by daybreak. The travelling had all been done at night, to prevent them being attacked by wild animals, which had only made it easier for the Specials to follow them. They were excited now, chattering and giggling as they broke camp, and the two Smokies who’d met them only encouraged it. Which was stupid, seeing as you generally _didn’t_ want to draw attention to yourself out here in the Wild. _Stupid Uglies,_ Lorlen thought again as they all rose into the air; _I can’t believe we’ve actually managed to track you for almost three days without you even becoming suspicious._ He grinned. _I totally didn’t think this plan through, and it’s_ still _working! I really am the Boss._

As the night wore on the two Smokies looked increasingly relieved, and the Uglies became more and more excited. Even Donia, who had been shy and unforthcoming, was jabbering excitedly as they swerved back and forth to talk to each other. _Another stupid thing, seeing as it’s dark. They could hit each other._ So much better to have Skintenna; Lorlen could talk to Akkarin as clearly as if he were speaking right next to him from about a mile away in any direction.

Now, the Smokies were pointing, yelling something. It drifted distorted back to Lorlen’s ears, but he was pretty sure that this was the announcement of the Smoke. “Stay back, I think we’re here,” he muttered to Akkarin, and sure enough the boards ahead dropped below the trees a second later. The Specials slowed and dropped through the gently waving leaves, avoiding the branches easily with their enhanced night vision, and jumped off a metre above the ground. Lorlen motioned with his head, and they crept forward to look between the trees.

Ahead of them a valley dipped deep into the landscape. The Smokies had filled it with habitation, huts and storage buildings, a couple of community buildings and something akin to a town hall in the centre. Everything was lit by the dying embers of a hundred fires, evidence of primeval cooking methods. _And using the trees,_ Lorlen though, resisting the urge to snarl, _using up natural resources, releasing carbon. Just like the Ancients. Why do these idiotic Uglies feel the need to regress so far?!_

“Shall we call in the Calvary?” Akkarin breathed, grinning.

Lorlen nodded. “Move back.” They retreated a half mile through the trees, their boards floating after them quietly, and made a rough camp in a slightly cleared area. While Akkarin checked for any signs that Smokies might come here regularly, Lorlen sat and pulled his communications device from his bag. It was a headset that sat in the ear, then extended to cover the eye with a screen when activated. It also included a small microphone extension, which hovered close to Lorlen’s mouth as the device extended and he pressed buttons. “Call Special HQ,” he told it. The eye screen flickered into life, displaying information about who he was calling. The device clicked and hissed into his ear, and the eye screen flashed oddly. He sighed, resigning himself to wait; because the Wild was so large, it was very hard to make contact with others. Normal ping messages or eye screen calls wouldn’t work outside of city limits, so you had to use these communication headsets. They worked well when contacting other headset devices in the surrounding area, but not so well when making a long distance call.

Finally, however, the line was picked up. “Hello, Special HQ.”

“It’s Lorlen,” Lorlen said tersely, “Can I speak to Dr. Vinara?”

“Hold on a moment please,” the bland voice told him. Some classical music began to play, and Lorlen gritted his teeth. _Most important mission to the city in decades and I’m put on hold. Lovely._

Eventually the line crackled and a familiar voice barked, “Hello?”

“Dr. Vinara,” Lorlen sighed, trying to hide his relief, “Good news; we’ve found the Smokies.”

There was a pause. “You’ve found them?” Dr. Vinara asked, incredulous. Lorlen’s eye screen flickered again and a picture of Dr. Vinara appeared. She was giving the camera a hard look, but there was something slightly hopeful in her eyes.

“Yes,” Lorlen nodded, even though she couldn’t see, “They’re about three days away from the city on hoverboards, almost directly due east.”

She smiled, and her expression brought to mind an old saying Lorlen had heard once; the cat who got the cream. “Brilliant,” she breathed. “Should take about twenty-four hours in a hovercar. We’ll see you at sunrise tomorrow. Keep low,” she added, her voice taking on a hard edge, “Can’t have you messing this all up now.”

“We’ll keep so low we’ll have our faces in the mud,” Lorlen said wryly.

She raised a brow. “Whatever. Just make sure you’re not found.” She paused, then asked, “How many are there?”

“Smokies? About…a hundred and fifty? Maximum two hundred.”

“All Uglies?”

“All that we’ve seen have been.”

She nodded. “Fine. We’ll see you soon. Keep low,” she repeated, then the eye screen went back to its usual blank florescent orange.

There was a quiet rustle in the bushes, and Akkarin appeared. “All looks clear,” he murmured, “You speak to Dr. V?”

“Just got off the line with her,” Lorlen said, pressing the button to shut down the communicator and coming to sit down next to Akkarin, “She and the others will be here in twelve hours.”

Akkarin smiled, then leant back and laid down on the leaf-covered forest floor. “I guess we have time to kill, then,” he said quietly, looking up at what little of the stars could be seen through the high foliage.

Lorlen nodded, and laid down next to him. Somewhere the horizon was starting to brighten, and the stars were fading. “The whole day,” he said quietly, “Do you want to do something?”

Akkarin turned his head and looked at him. Lorlen met his gaze; his eyes held something odd, secretive, and he had a small, curious smile playing on his lips. “What?” Lorlen asked quietly.

Akkarin’s smile became a little more pronounced. Instead of answering, he looked down and trailed a finger over Lorlen’s pulsing flash tattoos. “Why did you get these?” he asked softly.

Lorlen looked down at them too, his eyes following Akkarin’s finger as he stroked them gently. He considered the tracing lines of artistry, black curls which shivered and pulsed in time with his heartbeat. “You know why. So I could see how fast my heart is beating. So we could all see it.”

Akkarin’s smile became slightly wry. “Wearing your heart on your sleeve,” he murmured, “literally. But that’s not the whole reason, is it?”

Lorlen raised a brow at him. “How would you know?”

“I know you far too well,” Akkarin laughed, “Come on, out with it.”

Lorlen sighed quietly and looked up at the brightening sky. “No, I guess it’s not the whole reason. Well…you know that when you get icy, your heart beats fast. When you’re scared or excited too.” Akkarin nodded silently. “I guess…In the beginning, I wanted the other’s trust. I wanted them to know that they could trust me. So I figured, if I showed them how I was feeling, through my heartbeat, then they could figure out or guess at how I felt. They could tell if I was lying to them, maybe. I didn’t know if it would work; I just tried it. Turns out I didn’t need to worry much about their respect, but I sometimes wonder if the tattoos did help. If having them meant that the others trusted me more from the off, even if they didn’t say it.”

Lorlen felt Akkarin nod. “I get it. But you’re right; you didn’t need them. We could see you were the Boss, from day one.” He laughed a little, “They sure are cool though.”

“Which explains why you got them too?” Lorlen asked, looking back at him with a grin.

Akkarin chuckled. “That and everyone else who was anyone had them.” He paused and looked at Lorlen, “But you’re the only one who has them on their face.”

Lorlen shifted self-consciously. He’d only just got those ones done. “Everyone said they looked weird. Do you think I should have them taken off?”

Akkarin shook his head, his expression becoming hard to read. “No. I like them. They’re…special.” He smiled, his eyes alight with something unnameable, something which produced strange reactions in Lorlen’s stomach. Akkarin lifted a hand to trace the designs that swirled about Lorlen’s eye with the backs of his fingers. “They highlight your eyes, too,” he whispered softly. “You have beautiful eyes.”

“They’re Special eyes,” Lorlen whispered, “They’re not meant to be beautiful.”

“But they are,” Akkarin told him, still tracing the design, “They really are.”

Lorlen felt his eyelids flutter closed and he swallowed, desperately trying not to think about the way the hand softly caressing his face was making him feel. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” he whispered, breathless.

He could almost feel Akkarin’s smile. “Yeah, I know,” he breathed, his face suddenly close, “I’ve known that all along.”

They stayed like that for seconds that seemed to drag by like hours, and just when Lorlen had begun to think he wouldn’t, Akkarin leaned in and closed that gap between them. Lorlen let himself be pulled close and carried far away from everything, riding a high of longing touch and soft skin, and wondered quite why he hadn’t thought about doing this before.

_0_

Having gone to sleep in the quiet of the night quite at peace, Sonea was jerked sharply back into awareness by a loud droning that filled her ears. She shot up out of bed and ran to the window, flinging back the shutters to look outside. What she saw almost made her faint.

The sky was black with hovercars, swooping and turning, some diving for a landing and some already on the ground. Specials were leaping out of them, nightmare figures dressed in swirling grey silk, holding guns and growling. The Smokies were screaming, running for the cover of the forest, but the Specials had ringed the entire camp. They were trapped.

Gasping for air, Sonea threw herself away from the window and into the next room, almost running headlong into Cery. “Cery!” she shrieked, “Specials! Outside!”

He caught her shoulders. “I know, I know.” Seeing her wide, hysterical eyes, he shook her a little. “Snap out of it, Sonea! We’ll be fine. Listen; take this,” he handed her a backpack, “and sneak your way through the Specials to Rothen’s house. Go into the forest, disappear. I’ve given you enough to live on for about three weeks in there, depending on how you ration it. When the Specials are gone, come back here and loot what you can find, then get back to the city. You can get a message to Diego there. Tell them the time’s come; we need their help.”

Sonea stared at him, helplessly confused. “What? Cery, what’s going on?”

Cery straightened his shoulders. “We’re going to provide a distraction,” he said quietly, “and you get outta here.”

Sonea shook her head, clutching at his shirt, “No, Cery! They’ll kill you!”

“That doesn’t matter!” he yelled, “You have to get out of here and call Diego!”

“Who’re Diego?” Sonea whimpered, “I’ve never heard of them, I don’t understand…”

“There’s no time now,” Cery said, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the house, “Rothen can explain. Now, come on.” He pulled her sneakily around the buildings, avoiding the Special’s lines of sight, until they were near the edge. The Specials had formed their ring just around the edge of the clearing, but it didn’t include Rothen’s house, hidden behind the trees. In fact, they seemed not to have noticed. They crouched down in the shelter of one of the huts, and within a few minutes a number of young Smokies had gathered around them, behind their hut and others. Cery nodded and turned to Sonea. “Okay, Sonea,” he whispered, “We’ll provide the distraction, you sneak out.”

“No, Cery-”

Without giving her time to argue, Cery stood and let out a fierce battle cry, running at the Specials. The other Smokies leapt to their feet as well, rushing the ring. The Specials all turned at once, but the element of surprise gave the Smokies a slight upper hand. They leapt upon the Specials, hitting out at them with metal poles and sticks. Her heart pounding, Sonea ran too, ducking until flailing arms and legs and diving into the foliage. She lay there, undiscovered, and began to sob quietly as she heard the tide of the little battle inevitably turn. There were cracks, shouts, screams, gunshots. Then silence. No normal human with a metal pole could stand up to a Special, even when they didn’t have guns. Still heaving quiet sobs, Sonea crawled her way through the underbrush towards Rothen’s house. She snuck around the side and knocked on the door, looking around her constantly in every direction to check she hadn’t been followed.

When Rothen opened the door and took in her sorry state, he reached out and pulled her into a hug. “Oh Sonea,” he murmured, as she shivered and sniffed, “Why did it have to be like this…”

Steeling herself, she pushed him away gently. “I’ve got supplies,” she croaked, “We need to wait until the Specials are gone, then-”

“Make our way to the city and contact Diego,” Rothen finished, reaching behind the door for something. He pulled out a backpack similar to Sonea’s. “I’ve been ready for a while,” he shrugged in answer to her questioning look. “Come on; we’d better get out of here.”

Too worn out to question him, Sonea followed as he struck out deep into the forest, her heart heavy with the screams that echoed from the place she’d lovingly called home.

_0_

 


	3. End

It had been a great success. The Smokies were all herded into a group in the middle of their little encampment, crouched on the ground, some lying, most sobbing or shaking. Lorlen ignored them as he browsed through the information coming in on his communication headset. Various feeds scrolled down the eyescreen from other Specials in the area; a discovery of weapons here, recovered Special issue boards there, a hoard of tech on the west side of the camp…The eyescreen blinked suddenly, showing ‘Hostile’ and a location on the northeast side. “Show me,” Lorlen murmured, and a map scan flickered to life. It showed him a group of Uglies attacking some Specials with what appeared to be sticks…He flicked it off. Nothing Specials couldn’t handle.

“All clear?” a purring voice asked him. He turned.

“Gone without a hitch,” he said, nodding to Dr. Vinara as she stalked up to him. “They’ve discovered various sites with weapons and tech, recovered Special issue boards…”

“No hostiles?”

“A tiny group on the northeast side. They attacked with poles and sticks.”

Vinara gave a grating laugh. “Poles and sticks! Against Specials! Uglies really are stupid. Check on it, though.” She waved a hand in dismissal and turned back to another Special, her grating voice issuing more orders.

Lorlen sighed and whispered, “Show me the hostiles,” to the headset. The eyescreen flickered and showed him the same display, only now the overlay said ‘Target neutralised’. “Call the head of that team,” Lorlen muttered.

He picked up quickly. “This is Team Captain Twelve,” he snapped, “What’s the problem?”

“We were monitoring hostiles in your area,” Lorlen drawled in bored tone, “What’s the situation there?”

“Hostiles neutralised,” the captain said, “We’ve got a few alive. Shall we bring them back to the main group?”

“Affirmative. Don’t compromise the security,” Lorlen snapped, then rung off.

Near the circle, Dr. Vinara clapped her hands. “Well done, everyone,” she called over the assembled mass, “The target has been neutralized. We’re loading them up and taking them back to base!”

“You think you can do that?!” an angry voice yelled from the crowd. “You think you can just ship us back to the city without our say like animals?!”

Dr. Vinara quirked an eyebrow as a few other voices backed him up. “That’s exactly what I think I can do,” she said, her voice ringing and commanding silence, “Compared to you, I am god. I can do whatever I want with my pitiful playthings,” her smile was twisted, “While you crawl in the mud, you pathetic, miserable creatures, I stand tall. I am god.” The silence was palpable, almost alive. All the eyes of the Smokies were turned to her, a mixture of repulsion and fear mingling in all of them. Dr. Vinara just laughed, a ringing, hollow sound that echoed. “Take them away,” she chuckled, waving a hand and turning towards her own private hovercar.

Lorlen shivered, but followed her. She’d want to instruct him before they left, he was sure of it. He wasn’t surprised that Akkarin ghosted to his side. When they reached her, Dr. Vinara was about to climb into her hovercar. She turned to smile at them. “Pilot one of the private hovercars back to the city,” she said, “and take these few with you.” She nodded behind them, then disappeared into the dark interior of the hovercar.

Lorlen and Akkarin turned. Three Specials were escorting a group of four Smokies to a private hovercar, whilst the rest were being loaded into the enormous carrier class cars that had followed the main party. Lorlen strode over to the private hovercar and jumped in, seeing the other Specials making the Smokies sit. “What’s so special about these?” he grunted.

“That one’s the leader,” one of the others answered, jabbing his gun at an older man, “and those three led the hostiles in that little skirmish.”

Lorlen nodded, surveying the four hate-filled faces in front of him, recognising the Smokies who’d led the little group they’d followed. “Fine. We can take it from here.” The other Specials nodded and exited the car. Akkarin heaved the heavy door closed, then moved to the pilot’s seat to begin takeoff. Lorlen opened a hatch in the wall and rifled through the items, taking out shot syringes. He turned to the Smokies and sighed. “This is such a bother,” he groaned, before jabbing each one of them in back of the neck.

_0_

After an hour of hiding out in the forest, they heard the hovercars leaving. Rothen nodded, and they began to walk back. Before they came in sight of the camp, they began to hear a crackling noise, and the scent of smoke came to them on the breeze. Crying out, Sonea ran. But they were much too late; the camp was already gone, the dry wooden huts consumed hungrily by flames. A pillar of smoke rose into the sky, luckily the only thing that was still up there.

Sonea fell to her knees. _It’s gone,_ she thought, staring out at the leaping flames, _our whole world is gone._ She felt Rothen’s hand on her shoulder. “Come on, Sonea,” he whispered, “We have to go.”

“But…the camp…”

“We can’t do anything.” He pulled her up by the hand, “It’s best to let it burn. It’ll go back to nature.”

Sonea nodded, sniffing, and let him draw her away. They rounded the camp and found his house, still undisturbed. He pulled out two hoverboards from underneath the short stilts it stood on. “We’ll fly to the city,” he said, starting one up and putting on crash bracelets, “When we’re in range, we’ll be able to send a message.”

Sonea paused in putting on her bracelets. “Cery mentioned ‘Diego’,” she said, “Who’re they?”

Rothen shook his head, “We haven’t got time. The Specials will be back within twenty-four hours, and it’ll take us three days. That means Cery and the others will be at least three days in captivity, if we factor in the time it’ll take the Diegans to get here. We need to hurry.”

Resigned, Sonea nodded, and they lifted their boards and flew away into the dawning day.

_0_

“How close are we to home?” Lorlen groaned, watching the forest speed by under the dark cloud of rain.

“About another four hours,” Akkarin said quietly, focusing on driving, “You need to be patient.”

Lorlen scowled at him. “This is boring, though.”

Akkarin laughed. “And you’re always the one berating Osen for being impatient and antsy. Just sit and look at the rain or something.”

“Sit and look at the rain, he says,” Lorlen grumbled, only making Akkarin laugh more.

Unbeknownst to the Specials, their exchange was overheard. Cery had resisted a groan as he came around, the back of his neck still tingling from where it had been jabbed with the knockout fluid. Turning his head cautiously, he saw that the two Specials were sitting in the driving seats, completely focused on the world passing their windows and not paying any attention to the Smokies lying on the cold floor in the back. Turning his head again, he met the eyes of Harrin’s father, Darin. He slowly put a finger to his lips. Cery nodded.

Moving slow, inch by inch, Darin levered himself off the floor and pulled something from his pocket. It looked like another syringe. On silent feet, he moved closer to the Specials. Cery bit back a gasp. _What the hell is he_ doing _?!_ The Specials were in a world of their own, chatting about something, right up until the moment Darin stabbed the one driving with his needle.

Pandemonium broke loose. Darin gave a yell of triumph, jumping backwards, as the Special driving slumped, his hands slackening on the wheel. The other Special howled, fixing his slitted eyes on Darin, but before he could move the hovercar spun over, out of control. Cery heard Harrin yell as they were tossed about, and he put his arms around his head to break his fall. Everything was spinning, the hovercar was spinning! It didn’t have anyone driving it…Clinging onto metal pipes, Cery clawed his way over to the cockpit while the hovercar twisted and flipped. He leapt for the driver’s seat and the steering wheel, vacant now…

Just as he reached it and tried to stabilise the car, he heard a yell. The hatch door had come open, and Darin was sliding, sliding towards it…

Cery righted the car, but it was too late. Harrin screamed as he jumped to the hatch, Burril coming to clutch at his shoulder. Darin was gone, their speed taking them far past where he’d fallen. Harrin’s shoulders shook, and Burril, sympathetic for once, stroked his back. “Oh god…Harrin…”

Cery jumped. “Where’s the other Special?!” he gasped, looking around. Then he spotted him. “Out cold,” he breathed, watching as the others turned and took in the spread-eagled Special lying on the floor.

“He must’ve hit something,” Burril said quietly. “Here, help me a minute Harrin, we’ll chuck the other one over there with him.” Harrin nodded, wiping away his tears, and they shoved the Special Darin had jabbed next to the other. Then they stood back, watching them fearfully as if they would come alive any second. “What do we do now?” Burril asked quietly.

Harrin straightened his shoulders. “We keep going for the city,” he said, determined, “When we get there we can send a message to Diego, and they’ll be able to come even quicker.”

Cery held out a hand. “Harrin…”

Harrin shook his head. “It’s okay. I’m fine. This is what…what Dad would’ve wanted.” He sat down in the passenger seat and stared out at the rain. Cery sighed and turned his attention back to driving, while Burril sat down on the floor between them.

_0_

Lorlen groaned at the quiet pinging in his head. That was an alarm…Meant he’d been unconscious. He opened his eyes, and his eyescreen told him he’d been out for ten minutes. _Must’ve been a bad hit,_ he thought. What had happened?

He remembered. The Smokies had been awake, one of them had stabbed Akkarin in the back of the neck with a syringe…He fought back a growl. _Those rats are going to die!_ Without thinking about it, he leapt upwards, startling the Smokies. “He’s awake!” the closest one screamed. Lorlen grabbed him round the neck and slammed him into the wall, crushing his head against the jagged pipe work. _Dead._ Another one had leapt up from the passenger seat, and Lorlen grabbed his neck too, snapping it in one quick moment and smashing the limp form against the control console. _Dead._ He turned, but the one driving was gone. He’d hit the autopilot button…Lorlen twitched at a yell from behind, and ducked a wild jab. _Another syringe!_ The Smokie screeched, trying to back away, and Lorlen hit him squarely around the head, sending him crashing to the floor. He didn’t move.

Lorlen stood still, breathing hard. The third Smokie wasn’t dead, but he didn’t need to be, so Lorlen left him and went to Akkarin’s side. He poked and prodded, but he didn’t wake up. _They must’ve hit him with some strong stuff._ He looked at the abandoned syringe. _I should take that to Dr. V._ He picked it up and stowed it in a compartment, then grimaced at the two dead Smokies. Wincing, he picked them up and opened the hatch, chucking them out. “Stupid Uglies,” he muttered to himself, walking back to the pilot’s chair.

_0_

Surprisingly, Dr. Vinara hadn’t been very concerned about losing the Smokies she’d entrusted to Lorlen. “The camp is gone,” she said absently, “We didn’t really need them.”

“What about this one?” Lorlen asked, holding up the one remaining Smokie. Though he was now conscious, he didn’t move. He could barely hold his head up.

Dr. Vinara sneered at him. “Take him to the hospital,” she sniffed, turning back to the paperwork on her desk, “and don’t bring prisoners in here again.”

Lorlen nodded. “Yes, Dr. Vinara.” He turned to leave, but she called him back.

“How is Akkarin?”

“Fine. He woke up, nothing seems wrong. I’ve sent the syringe to the lab for tests.”

Dr. Vinara nodded. “That’s all.”

Lorlen exited the room, dragging the Smokie along the floor. He didn’t make a sound. Lorlen shook him, figuring he’d probably lasped back into unconsciousness. Akkarin was waiting at the end of the hall, and he raised at brow at Lorlen’s charge. “He doesn’t look happy.”

“He’s not,” Lorlen grinned, then dropped him uncaringly. “Doesn’t matter. The hospital’ll patch him up.” He hugged Akkarin softly, smiling when he felt it returned. “Can’t believe you got taken out by Uglies, you big idiot.”

Akkarin laughed and ran a hand slowly through Lorlen’s hair. “Yeah, well, you acted with the hand of revenge on them, didn’t you?”

Lorlen snuggled closer. “I did,” he whispered, sighing and enjoying the moment. Akkarin kissed the top of his head.

After a minute he pulled back, grinning. “Come on, then. Sooner I drop this off at the hospital, sooner we can go to the party.”

Akkarin smiled, puzzled. “Party?”

Lorlen laughed. “Well, you didn’t expect anything else, right?”

Akkarin smiled and kissed him softly. “I know you too well,” he whispered. “Come on then.”

Lorlen grinned and picked the Smokie up again by his collar, and dragged him with them as they walked briskly down the corridor, Akkarin’s arm slung over his shoulder.

_0_

Cery woke up on a cold floor, his head ringing. Everything was blurry, he could barely see…Cery remembered being taken somewhere, then somewhere else…He was being dragged around by his collar, and he could hear lots of Special voices…

Then he properly woke up, in a hospital bed. Cery stared at the ceiling for a long while, feeling hollow. _Darin. Burril. Harrin._ They were all gone, all killed. Some Pretty nurses came and went, made him eat, tried to talk to him. They gave up quickly.

For about a day all Cery felt was numbness. Then came the pain, heartrending pain that closed around him at night and made him scream into the darkness. They had been his family, the ones he could always rely on after his own parents died, and now they were gone…

Then came the anger. Undiluted and vicious, it seeped into Cery’s system, at first a trickle, then an angry tide which made him want to toss aside his bedclothes and go on a rampage around the hospital, killing all those in sight. He couldn’t, seeing as when he sat up it felt like he was going to be sick, but all the same.

He could see one face in his head. The Special, the Special who’d brutally murdered both Burril and Harrin without a thought, almost without effort, and who’d caused his current state. As Cery began to sift through the haze of his fuzzy memories, he realized he’d also been the one dragging him around through corridors.

Cery could focus on one thing.

He _hated_ him.

_0_

That night, the city blazed brightly as usual, fireworks lighting the night air. Sonea stood very still as she watched it, the wind tugging at her hair and clothes. They’d pushed themselves hard, and gotten here in good time. Now, all they had to do was call the mysterious ‘Diego’. No matter how much she’d pestered him, Rothen wouldn’t tell her who or what Diego was. He’d just said, “There’s no time for that,” and kept moving.

She turned away from the bright lights and made her way back down the hill to their sheltered campsite. Rothen was setting something up, some kind of long distance transmitter. Sonea crouched down beside him. “Going well?”

“There,” Rothen tweaked something, and sat back. “It’s done.”

“Good. Now you can call Diego.”

Rothen nodded. “Yes. Right, here we go.” He pushed a few buttons, tapped in a code, and they waited. A ringing noise came from the device. Then the line was picked up.

“Hello, this is Diego. This is the special line.”

“This is Dr. Rothen,” Rothen said seriously, “I’m calling to give the message. It’s time.”

The person on the other end was silent for a few seconds. “Message received and understood,” they said after the pause, “The Diegans will be with you soon.”

“Thank you.” Rothen pressed a button and cut off the call.

Sonea looked at him incredulously. “That’s it? Don’t you need to explain?!”

Rothen sighed. “We knew this day would probably come, Sonea,” he said heavily, “We knew the Smoke was at best temporary. It could never hold forever.”

“So you just made us believe we were safe?!” Sonea yelled.

“Ignorance is bliss,” Rothen said bitterly. “Don’t worry about it. Soon, the Diegans will be here, and everything will be all right.”

Sonea sniffed, feeling the tears she’d repressed coming to the surface. “But the Smoke was our _home_ ,” she whispered, “We loved it. We felt safe there.”

Rothen hugged her close. “I know, Sonea,” he said soothingly, stroking the top of her head, “I know it’s hard. But I promise you, after this is over, this city will become like the Smoke. And then, maybe, all the cities in the world will be like this one will become, and then the people will be free.”

_0_

Lorlen had crashed in HQ late last night after chasing some stupid Uglies round one of the outer districts, which didn’t put him in the mood for waking up to alarms. “Damn it,” he grunted, pushing himself up into a sitting position, “What the hell’s going on?”

The door slid open with unusual urgency and Dannyl came hurrying in. “The city’s being attacked!” he yelled.

Well, that woke Lorlen right up. “What?!” He leapt out of bed, “What the hell?!”

Dannyl shook his head, “I don’t know, just that we’re being attacked. They’ve surrounded HQ, we need to get out!”

Lorlen grabbed some clothes and began pulling them on. “Okay, got it.” Dannyl nodded and disappeared, and seconds later Lorlen was out the door and running. Every other Special in HQ appeared to have the same idea, as all of them were racing towards the upper floors and the exits.

Lorlen felt a hand grab his. He turned and grinned at Akkarin. “You alright?”

“For now,” Akkarin grunted, “Let’s get outta here.”

The noise of explosions came from overhead. “Damn it,” Lorlen muttered. The building started to creak. The Specials upped the pace. “Let’s get moving!” Lorlen yelled at the mob, “You don’t wanna be under here when this thing collapses!”

The higher they got the worse the damage became, until they were running past huge holes and bodies. They kept going. The building was creaking and swaying alarmingly now, bombarded from the outside with explosives and shells. It would be coming down very soon. “What’re we gonna do?!” he heard Akkarin yell.

“We need to get to the roof!” he shouted back, “We need to get a hoverboard, try and sneak out!”

Lorlen yelled as the way in front of them suddenly started to collapse. He pulled back, and the entire ceiling began to fall. “Turn back!” he yelled, only to find that the ceiling behind them was collapsing too. With a crunch and a crack, the ceiling above his head fell in also, plunging him into darkness.

_0_

Lorlen woke up to a familiar pinging, and his internal clock told him he’d been out for thirty seconds. He groaned, rolling over. He felt like a building had fallen on him. Which it had, even if it had been only one floor’s worth.

He sat up, and heard a choked gasp from beside him. He turned his head.

“A-Akkarin?” he whispered, unable to believe his eyes, “You-you’re-”

Akkarin gave him a weak smile. “Whoops. Didn’t…get out the way…in time, I guess,” he whispered. He gestured down at his torso, where one of the huge girders that had held the ceiling aloft protruded sickeningly, cutting straight through him. “Looks like…this is…the end of the line,” he gasped, coughing up blood.

“No…” Lorlen whispered, coming closer, “You can’t…you can’t be…”

Akkarin reached out and touched his face. “You’ll…be okay…Lorlen,” he choked, “You will.”

“No,” Lorlen shook his head, the tears coming, “No, no, this isn’t fair! We only just-we didn’t even-this-”

“Lorlen,” Akkarin smiled at him, “Don’t worry…about me…about…the future…” He coughed again, choking up more blood. “Don’t worry…about this…there’s nothing…you can…do.”

Lorlen choked on a sob, and leaned over to kiss him fiercely, desperately, clutching at his shoulders. “It can’t end like this!” he gasped against his lips, “It can’t!”

Akkarin stroked his hand over the wildly pulsing flash tattoos. “You’re…still so…beautiful,” he whispered, smiling, “Right…up until…the…end.”

Lorlen gasped, sobbing brokenly, and pressed himself up against Akkarin, burying his face in his chest. “You can’t go,” he whispered, “Not now. You can’t leave me.”

Akkarin let his head fall back. “I’ll…always…be…here…with you…” he whispered, sighing as he slipped away. Lorlen sobbed, clutching onto his now lifeless form, and stayed there, uncaring about the world around him. The battle was already over; he’d already lost.

_0_

Cery stretched up to the sky, feeling healthy for the first time. The sun was high in the sky, and as he walked his body felt like it had healed.

He wasn’t so sure about his heart.

He’d lain in the hospital bed for about a week, recovering from his near-concussion. The Diegans had swept in, praised him as a leader of the Smoke, and proceeded to take over the city. The Specials had been almost annihilated, and those that were still alive were being held in super secure cells in the city’s prison.

“But I still don’t understand,” Sonea said from next to him, “What is Diego?”

“They’re another city,” Cery said, “But they never did the whole Pretty/Ugly thing. It’s like the Smoke there; people are equal. People work for things.”

Sonea smiled. “They’re going to make it like that here?”

Cery nodded. “Yeah, and take away all the lesions. This place is going to become a lot better.”

Sonea chewed her lip. “But what about the Specials?”

“Turns out the scientists in Diego managed to get some scans of a Special brain from another city, and made a cure for the brain part. That’s what Darin stabbed one of the Specials we were captured by with. They’ve all been injected with it now. Turns out, Rothen’s theory was right. It really was some kind of mind control.”

Sonea shivered. “That’s bad. But what are we doing?”

Cery stopped, and looked darkly up at the building in front of them. The city prison. “There’s someone I want to see.”

_0_

Lorlen let the guards lead him at gunpoint to an interrogation room. It had a thick plastic wall in the middle of it, separating Lorlen from whoever was going to be questioning him. He sat down mutely on the chair, and the guards left.

Two people walked into the other half of the room, and Lorlen sighed. The girl he didn’t recognise, but the boy he did. He met the boy’s angry stare levelly, not betraying any emotion of his own. Not that he had any, at that point.

The girl sat down, but he didn’t. He just glared. “You killed them,” was his opening line.

Lorlen sighed. “Do you think this is going to help?” he asked in a monotone, “You think raging at me will bring them back? I killed them, I had to. What’s done is done.”

“You didn’t _have_ to!” the boy yelled, “You could’ve just knocked them out like me!”

“But I didn’t,” Lorlen droned, “and now they’re dead. What exactly does your being here achieve?”

The boy’s mouth worked up and down. He glared, his eyes slightly watery. After a moment, what came out was, “Why?”

Lorlen shrugged. “I was angry.”

The boy said nothing else, he just slammed out. The girl sighed, and Lorlen stared at the floor. It barely affected him.

“Do you have a name?”

He looked up. The girl was looking at him, her expression one of calm indifference, but with a hint of compassion hiding behind it. “Lorlen,” he grunted.

She nodded jerkily. “Well, my best wishes to you, Lorlen.” She stood up and turned to leave.

He couldn’t resist. “Best wishes to you as well,” he said, layering his voice with mocking sneer, “Blessings of a Special follow you.”

She turned her head slightly, looked him in the eye, but said nothing. Then she left, and Lorlen passively allowed the guards to lead him back to his cell.

_0_

He lay on his bed, thinking about nothing but pain. He felt nothing but pain. He was empty, an empty shell curled around one great slash of pain through his heart.

He’d been like this for hours when a voice broke the silence. “They’re changing us back.”

He didn’t look round. “What?”

Dannyl sighed, leaning his head back. “They’ve changed our brain chemistry, now they’re changing us physically, back into Pretties.”

Lorlen stiffened. That got through a little. “Back…into Pretties?” he repeated.

“Yeah. I’m in two hours. You’re in four.”

Lorlen rolled over and looked at him. He was standing on the other side of the white room, leant up against the wall, almost casual looking. “You don’t sound too unhappy.”

Dannyl frowned. “I remember, now,” he said quietly, “I remember things about before, my life. My family, the people I love. I want to go back to that. And when I do…” he sighed, “When I go back, they won’t accept me if I look like this. And what’s more, I don’t know if I want to look like this anymore. I want…I want to move on.”

Lorlen rolled back over. “Whatever. You give up.”

Dannyl snorted. “That’s coming from you. All you’ve done since we got here is lie like you’re dead over there.”

“I wish I was dead,” he whispered.

He felt Dannyl’s hand on his shoulder. “Don’t say that, Boss. You’re the strong one, remember? Out of all of us?”

Lorlen snorted. “How many of us are left now?” he asked bitterly, “You and me. That’s it. The others are all gone. Long gone.”

Dannyl sighed, and removed his hand. “I can’t help you there, Boss,” he said quietly, and retreated to his side of the room. It was silent from then on.

It was a long two hours.

Eventually, guards appeared to take Dannyl away. They clamped him in shock handcuffs, and began pushing him out the door. “Bye, Lorlen,” Dannyl whispered, his Skintenna still carrying the words. Lorlen didn’t look to see him taken away.

_0_

It was Sonea who spotted him first. “Look, over there!” she cried, pointing.

Rothen’s face lit up. He gasped, and ran, ran and ran, until he could enfold his only son in his arms. “Dorrien,” he sighed, hugging him tightly.

“Dad!” Dorrien threw his arms around him too, hugging him just as tight. “I missed you so much!”

Sonea smiled. Those two were happy, as it should always have been. She looked out of the window of the mansion, at the skyline dotted with hovercars. The population were slowly being de-lesioned, and the Specials were almost gone. Everything was going well. She smiled.

Even though this was a city, it was starting to feel like home.

_0_

The grass was lit by the golden, almost burning light of the setting sun, turning the hill into a blazing riot of colour. Dannyl could feel his stomach twisting as he walked up it, walked towards someone he hadn’t seen in years.

His golden hair seemed caressed by the sun’s light as it dropped under the horizon. He stood on the crest of the hill, summoned by a ping message from someone he thought was dead. But when he turned, sensing the presence of another, he gasped. It was true. He was alive.

Dannyl gave him an awkward grin. He still looked the same, the same as the memories he’d had as soon as his mind had been released from the Special brain curse. Still the same, beautiful eyes, the same glowing hair…

“You’re real,” he whispered, then threw himself across the distance between them.

Dannyl held him tight, breathing in the scent of that hair. “Hello, Tayend,” he whispered, “I missed you.”

_0_

 The guards were coming. Lorlen tensed; he could hear them outside now.

Over the two hours since Dannyl’s departure, he’d decided there was something he felt other than pain. And that was the desire not to become a Pretty. Akkarin thought he was beautiful as a Special, loved him as a Special, so he was going to _stay_ Special.

The guards cautiously opened the door, then moved in when they couldn’t see their prisoner. “Hey, where are you?!” one guard called, “We’ve got guns!”

Then he was slamming into the ground, caught offguard by an attack from the side. The other two guards yelled, but Lorlen felled them quickly and took the door to the outside. _Right, in the corridor,_ he thought, _but what now?_ He went left, systematically taking out anyone who stood in his way.

Alarms began to ring as he found himself running down a dead-end corridor. “Damn it,” he cursed. What now? The guards were right on his tail…

“Here,” someone grabbed his arm, spun him round and shoved a backpack into his hands, “Take this.”

Lorlen stared at his rescuer. “Dr. Vinara?”

She was haggard looking, tired. And, most surprisingly, Pretty. “They changed me,” she said, dragging a hand over her face, “but they’re not letting me go. I’ll spend the rest of my life locked up.” She grinned then, “But you won’t. Here,” she shoved crash bracelets at him. A hoverboard floated silently upward from the ground beside her. “Take these. Go into the Wild. Don’t come back. Live away from everyone.” She looked slightly desperate, “Let one of my creations survive.”

He shook his head. “I’m not how I was before,” he said, “I haven’t got the brain chemistry.”

She sighed. “No one has. You’re the best I can get. Now get out of here before they find you.” She pushed him towards the window.

He snapped on the bracelets and clicked his fingers, jumping onto the hoverboard. “Thank you, Dr. Vinara,” he said quietly.

She shrugged. “Serves my purpose,” she said, sniffing, “Now _go_.” He nodded, turned, and burst through the window, covering his head from the shards of glass. She watched him go with a smile. “Good,” she whispered, hearing the guards come around the corner, “At least something survived.” With a smile, she turned. “It’s alright boys,” she cooed, “I’m not going anywhere. Come put those handcuffs on me.”

_0_

He’d dodged the hovercars and sped away quicker than even he thought possible. Now he was out in the Wild, leaving the city far behind. The fresh air of the Wild cleared his head, and as always, the icy beauty of the natural world was so strong, he could barely bear it.

And now, he’d never have to cut to be icy. Because he was cut inside, down to his core, and he doubted very much that he’d ever heal. _Not even magic could heal a wound like that,_ he thought, soft as a whisper in his damaged mind, _Not even witchcraft._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
